The Penultimate Sacrifice
by MarsDragon2
Summary: A Castlevania and Final Sacrifice ie MST3K episode 910 crossover. Arikado gets to investigate the Ziox. Worse, it's slash. Better, Rowsdower is barely involved in anything.


Arikado and anything he brings is copyright Konami. Satoris and anything he brings is copyright Tjardus Greidanus and welcome. So let it be done. 

.-.-.-.-.

The Penultimate Sacrifice

by MarsDragon

It had started innocently enough. Give the hard working dhampire a small reward, for years (centuries, dammit!) of dedicated service. A small honour, a reward, for betraying all he knew and turning against his own heritage. He had never asked for a reward, of course. After all, he was doing it out of the goodness of his damned heart. And that was the problem with never asking for a reward, you didn't get it.

Well, this time he had gotten it. A dinner with His Holiness, the Pope. Of course. Not a vacation, not a pretty human (necrophiliac, he supposed, though it shouldn't really count, in this case), not even a simple book or some pay for once. Just a dinner, he barely ate any human food to begin with, and a small pat on the head. He was five times older than the human, at least. True, the man himself was fairly reasonable. But some of the officials...Lord, he knew why his father was so proud of punching one of the them out so many years ago. Now, wait, that was uncharitable. They were just doing the best they could with what they had. Especially the ones he dealt with, it couldn't be easy, working two worlds like that.

It was not like the food had been bad. Not at all, in fact. They had eschewed most of the modern preservatives that tasted so odd to him and had tried to make traditional food. Maybe a few details were off, and the for the roast chicken he had been praying for Father's special blend of spices, but he had just been spoiled, that was all. They had held it late for him, and kindly turned down the lights. And it wasn't like he disliked the old man, really he was the best one they had had for ages. It was his own complete fault that he was here now, and that was fact.

He hadn't meant it like it was taken, but the wine had gone to his head a little and they had been talking about his father, which any sensible Church official should know was where they should fear to tread. Now, of course, he saw that those particular heresies, the ones Father had only spoken about after Mother had died, were not perhaps quite the best topic for conversation at the dinner table with someone you should be polite and at least pretend to be pious to. He gave a little sigh through clenched teeth and wondered if he was keeping the family tradition of never being able to keep from angering the authorities well enough, or if he needed to work his way up to another excommunication first.

And that was why he was currently slogging through knee-deep snow in the hinterlands of Canada/Canada, in search of some blasted Atlantean cult or whatever they were going after this week. Everyone had been furious, and for damned good reason, and if he hadn't had such a record and been so useful to keep around he wondered if perhaps he wouldn't have been thrown out altogether. Probably not. They couldn't afford to throw him out, he was the only one that had the knowledge, the skills, and the power he did. But they could threaten and rant and treat him like he didn't know damned well what he was doing...

He stopped and stared out into the wild forests. He could leave. He could leave and never come back. Go back to the castle and his father, swear allegiance once again and be welcomed with open, grateful arms. A Prodigal Son, returned from his little dalliance with rebellion, ready to take up arms and be his father's right hand once more. Better to rule in Hell than serve in Heaven...

He couldn't do that. Not because of any remnants of conscience he had remaining - Father had been thorough about that - or because he felt some lasting obligation. Well, to be honest, he did. The past kept him chained far better than anyone else. But also, he just wanted to see what the humans would come up with next. The world kept changing, and though maybe he didn't like all the changes, he wanted to see where they were going. Simple curiousity. See where these new clipper ships would go, getting to lands faster than he could ever dream of as a child. Then the steamships and railroads, and he'd be denying quite a bit of himself if he didn't admit he was fascinated with how they worked. So instead of slipping down to sleep, he went to the Vatican and offered himself as just the kind of hunter they needed...two birds with one stone. One thing lead to another, and here he was, staring at a tree in Canada with only a few hints as to where to go next.

Genya Arikado glanced around, hoping that the cult members would suddenly leap out on him from nowhere. It sometimes happened, after all. Unfortunately, these...what were they again...Ziox, were not so obliging as the last few had been, and Arikado remained un-jumped. He resigned himself to more walking and started down the hill. The snow had fallen in a thick white layer, the trees stood out with sharp black limbs writhing against the background, and the gray sky promised more snow come nightfall. Or would if normal weather patterns took their course. Arikado took a small part of his power and flung it against the heavens to hold back the snow until he could at least find some tracks and start the chase. They had been reported as seen in this area, people in ski masks and tank tops in the dead of winter stood out. There had to be something around here he could use...

The scent of ashes touched him before he saw the remains of the fire, and he hurried over to see who had been there. Harder to tell in human form, but it seemed to be two people, and someone had been bleeding. No mistaking that scent, ever. The other...smelt odd. Not quite human, it seemed. Moving carefully in order to not disturb the air too much, he circled around the remains, trying to figure out what had happened. The one who had been bleeding, he was sure that one was human, had stood at one spot for some time, then moved off to the west. The other, with the touch of non-human about him, must have walked around a bit before moving off in a slightly different direction. The snow was thinner here, so tracks were harder to see, and the scent was old, but it looked like he wanted to go to the grove of trees over there. There was no guarantee this was what he was looking for, but finding a non-human creature right about where he was looking for a mysterious cult dedicated to raising something or other...that was a little hard to dismiss as coincidence.

Indeed, as he moved over to the trees the tracks grew move obvious and easier to follow. Arikado reached the copse and almost pulled back. Blood. The scent that stood out above all others and started his other side giving his self control a few good sharp kicks. There was enough of the same type to assure whoever had been bleeding was dead now, which helped him calm down a little. Once he felt controlled again, he took a good look at the inside of the copse. No corpse, wait, no, it was just buried under some snow. A half assed job of burying if he had ever seen one, but they probably hadn't cared. There was plenty of blood and churned up snow into which the non-human's scent and tracks dead-ended. Both the churned up snow and the blood covered anything that might have been useful. On the other side, it looked like three or four people had run into the group of trees, and another set of tracks lay going west. Arikado moved back a little and skirted the edge of the trees to look at the other side. No point in getting his nostrils jammed up with all the blood when he needed to be able to identify people. It didn't take long to reach the other side, it was a small copse. Once there he followed the tracks back a little, until he could smell things besides blood.

Yes, definitely four people. One had gone ahead, and the others were layered on him. The one in front matched the blood back in the copse, so, a chase... The other three were just ordinary human males. Nothing to really hold his interest. He walked back around to the western side and investigated the tracks there. The non-human was back, and the three from the chase as well. They went west, as the bleeder from the campfire had done. Therefore, he would also go west. And wasn't it convenient that night had fallen while he had been pacing around? For a moment he considered questioning the dead man's spirit, but decided it probably would not be necessary. Simply following the men would likely find him all that he wanted. He slipped into wolf form and started running alongside the tracks. The scents were clearer now, a mixture of colours and patterns floating through the clear air. The non-human was a curious shade of purple he'd never really seen before, and he made a note of it in his mind. He kept holding back the snow, at least until he found what he was looking for. Hopefully it wouldn't take long to find wherever they were going.

It didn't. Soon a small, battered warehouse came into view, apparently the Zoix's hideout. Arikado stopped and changed back, letting the snow start to fall as he did so. He'd regret it if this wasn't the right place, but holding back the weather had been giving him a headache, and it wasn't like these people were too hard to find. Taking closer look at the warehouse didn't make it look any better. It looked like it was ready to fall down any minute, the walls might have once been painted white but now they were a flaky brown, the windows were broken and boarded up, and the roof had a large hole in it repaired by the power of tarp. There were a few lights set up around it, presumably to watch for trespassers, but they were weak and not too much of a threat. All in all, it was a very low budget cult, normally not even worth looking at. They probably thought matching black clothes were very scary, and sacrifices were done in the right spot with a knife. People like that made even the Black Friday look good, for all their stupid ideas about the Lord of Darkness and Belmonts and all that. But he was being punished, so he had to go down and take a look. Arikado started walking over to the warehouse when a sudden ringing distracted him. He hissed, why now of all times, and dodged behind a tree for some cover before sitting down in mid air and pulling off his shoe. Flipping the top open revealed two small speakers and a rotary dial; it also stopped the ringing. Arikado glanced around the tree to make sure no one was going to sneak up on him while he was talking, then turned back and brought the shoe-phone up to his ear.

"What are you doing? I'm right next to their hideout, you could've caused me quite a bit of trouble." He managed to keep his voice controlled, annoyance notwithstanding. The speaker on the other end, it sounded like a young woman, answered in confusion.

"I just called to say hello, sir. The church asked me to keep tabs on you during this assignment, since it was likely there would be danger...you can call me a spotter, if you want."

"...Or a babysitter." His thoughts ran on familiar, annoyed paths. What do they think I could do here? And if I did decide to do something rash, what could a girl sitting in a church far away do to stop me? Hell, what could she do if she were here? I swear, two, even five hundred years and they still don't THINK. "I do not believe they could come up with any danger that could threaten me. Now listen. Give me your number, I'll give you a call when I'm coming home, you will give those officials my report for me and that will save me some trouble. You'll be losing this job, so I hope you have some back-up plans."

"I, what? Sir..."

"Yes?"

"Father Myriel asked me specifically to do a good job on this and make sure you got out of this all right, and -"

"Listen!" It was getting very hard to keep from shouting his impatience and alerting the people in the warehouse next to him. "I do /not/ need someone to watch over me. If there was anything they could bring up that was a serious danger to me, the church would be useless, as only my father or God could stop it. So unless you happen to be able to reliably contact either of them, I suggest keeping quiet."

The voice on the other end of the line fell quiet. He hoped he hadn't frightened her too much, he didn't need another assignment like this to teach him some /politeness/. Serving in Heaven after all. He had chosen this and had to remind himself more every day. Finally she spoke up again, the nervousness still in her voice but not as apparent. "All right, I'll trust you. The number is 555-8016. Call me when you're done. But..."

"Yes?"

"Could you please let me keep this job? I won't bother you anymore, just give your reports, I swear. You'll never hear a peep out of me except when you want to. Please? Please?"

What is she running from? Arikado vuagly wondered. He didn't have the time to look into it right now, but in the discussions later he would have to find out. And perhaps arrange her a better job. They might think they held his strings tightly, but he knew which way things would go if he needed to pull. In fact, it might be a good idea to do that anyway, and remind them of who they were dealing with. "We'll see. For now just wait there. Good day, lady." He snapped the case back over the phone and slipped it back on his foot. Now that was over with, he could start working on his job.

He could march straight up there, get into a fight in which somehow most of the cult got killed - strictly by friendly fire, of course, he wasn't supposed to hurt anyone - and that would be that. But on the other hand, he found himself a bit curious on exactly what they were trying to do, as well as this strange non-human he had smelt. That plan would require inflintration, and a bit of stealth. It may, however, prove worth it. He was very curious about a non-human race he had no knowledge of, and wished to find out much more. Decided, he began to slip along the outside of the ring of trees surrounding the warehouse, moving around to another side. He saw no guards at the main entrance, but there was no point in taking the chance they were that foolish. About halfway around the clearing he saw a broken window not entirely boarded up. On the second floor, but that wasn't much of a problem. Pity they had those lights and it was such a clear night. Being able to turn into mist without suspicion would've been very useful. However, if he were careful and drew the shadows around himself, there was a gap between the two lights on this side he could exploit. After that it would be a simple matter to jump up to the window and get inside.

Crouching down in the new-fallen snow, he called the shadows to him. And they came. Sliding from the trees, their wracked shadows adding broken cover, then the softer shades between, adding dimness, and finally the night itself, bringing it's darkness to completely cover him. It wasn't perfect, if he ran into straight, full light he would be seen, but for the space between the lights and inside it would be beneficial. He leaned forward, preparing to run with full speed across the gap. Leaned, tensed...and sprang.

A diabolical quickness aided him in the race across the frozen ground, and it didn't take long before he was up against the wall of the building, right under where he wanted to be. There he paused, waiting to see if any clue that someone had noticed him appeared. No cries of alarm, no sudden attacks appeared. He seemed to be safe. A careful look up confirmed that his aim had been true and the window was within easy reach of a tall jump. And that was exactly what he preformed, using his powers to add much extra height to his already high natural leap. The broken window flashed before him and he reached out and grabbed onto one of the boards crossing the inside. Fortenantly they had nailed on the board above where the glass had broken. He was close enough to the wall to not make much of a noise when his feet hit it, but he hung there by one hand for a few moments anyway, willing to not have been discovered now. It didn't seem so. Perhaps God looked out for him after all, though he was more inclined to call it luck.

Pulling himself up to the crack, he transformed into mist in order to slide through the narrow gap. No one could see him here, and it was only a short time. Once he had passed into the building he changed back, landing in a crouch on the dusty floor. The air was still, and he couldn't smell or hear people nearby. He slowly stood up, keeping a sharp look out around him. The inside of the building matched the outside. The floor was filthy, covered in dust and rot, the walls were discoloured and looked like they were about to fall apart. Arikado was not exactly sanguine about staying in a place that looked like it really was about to fall on his head any minute, but he hadn't fed for awhile. A glance down the right hand passage showed a dead end. The left then. It wasn't light down that way, did they use all their power with the lights on the outside, but his night vision showed a long passageway and a stair. Moving lightly and carefully, he made his way over there.

He had just reached the stair, pressed himself against the wall, and taken a slow look around the corner to see what was there, when he once again caught that strange non-human scent. It wasn't fresh...probably the only reason it was still here was because the person had spent a lot of time here, for whatever reason. But it was there, and still interesting. Mindful of disturbing the traces in the air, he slid around the corner and started to walk down the stair. Besides the traces of the non-human, he still hadn't found any hints of people here. No sound, no hints of magic to suggest they were meddling in things they shouldn't, no sudden guards...it was odd. They must be very undermanned. He would've felt better if he had been attacked, he'd then at least know where they were.

It was not a long stair, and soon Arikado reached the bottom. There he found nothing but an empty room, in as much ill-repair as the rest of the place. But when he pressed up against the door, he could hear noises beyond. Finally. There was a bit of commotion, some grunting noises, a deep, scratching voice saying something...he couldn't make out the words. Arikado eased away from the door, considering what to do next. His plan of stealth did not involve rushing in and killing everybody like usual, but how would he work in order to find out what he wanted? These people were fools, so it may not need to be such a good plan. The shadows would still aid him, and there was little light coming from under the door. There were no spirits of the dead around to help him and give him information, and he was not the scyer his father was. More's the a pity, but there were other ways. A bit of a risk, but all he stood to lose was knowledge. Listening again, he heard the noise had died down, but from a few footsteps it seemed some of the cultists were still in the room. The noises were faint...it seemed they were on the other side of the room. All the better. He opened the door a small bit and slipped inside.

The only light for the large room was a dull red one, and Arikado gave reluctant thanks for the abilities his father had given him. He might not like them, but they were useful. Especially the excellent night-vision, which now allowed him to see past the dim area of the light and into the shadows around the edges. There were people there, dressed in black ski masks and tank tops, just as they had been described to him. They moved in and out of the room, but there were always four or five there at all times. From the ceiling hung several white ropes, and in front of the a table with something on it he couldn't make out. The scent of blood hung strong in the room. He had to restrain himself from snapping his jaws in anticipation. Not yet, not yet...soon. How long had it been since he had fed? No matter. The Church wished to starve him, but they could not follow everywhere, and who would know if he drank from a slashed throat?

The door leading away from the room opened, but it was not a normal mook that came through. A tall man, dressed in all black, with long hair...and that non-human smell. Even if he hadn't smelled of non-human he would've stood out, if only because he looked like the only one who was able to dress himself in the morning. Hm. Not an unhandsome man, Arikado thought, though he could be better. He was scowling rather terribly as he stalked in and started ranting at the cultists around.

"He didn't have the map! He hid it! The map must be found. You! Go and look for it!" The voice had an odd accent Arikado couldn't quite identify. It also sounded far too deep to match the man it came from. As for what he was saying...Arikado dismissed it as typical cult ramblings. It didn't sound so far like all this stealth would pay off after all.

The non-human stood there glaring at his henchmen for a few minutes while they ran...ambled off. One of them, only noticeable because of the red hood, was about to slip out of the door when the non-human spun around and stopped him. "Wait. You...come over here." The man looked fearful, but obeyed. "Back there, you said something about...sparing him."

"Sir, listen. If we had spared him, then he could've told us where the map was, and where to find the city. It would've been worth it!"

"Silence! You wanted to spare him because you felt sorry for him. Because "there was no reason to kill him". He was /in my way, Rowsdower. That's reason enough. Remember that." The red hood stumbled back, executed a clumsy bow, and once again went to leave the building. The non-human stared after him, looking thoughtful. "Sometimes I wonder how much Ziox you have in you. How pure you really are."

Back in the shadows, Arikado wondered if he had heard all of the preceding conversation correctly. Rowsdower? Maybe it wasn't as bad as Ziox, but still, Rowsdower? The non-human man was walking away out another door, and Arikado moved to follow him. He might as well get some answers out of this.

Beyond the new door was a hall, and past that the non-human walked to a small, well-furnished for the apparent budget, room. Arikado slipped in just before he closed the door and waited for the proper moment. Half of making people do what you wanted was dramatic and intimidating entrances, after all. No, not dramatic... he reconsidered, just unexpected. For instance, if the other man turned around, just like that, and he was leaning against the wall, just like this, wait, banish the shadows, and now suddenly there's an extra person in the room and Arikado could see the confusion in his eyes...just like that.

"What? Who are you?" The non-human was trying to sound confident and in control, but Arikado had seen the wary fear reflected in the man's eyes too often.

"I'm here to get some answers about this organization you're running. What you want, what you're doing, and why you want that map so badly you'll kill for it. Your name would be nice too, so I don't have to keep calling you "non-human"."

"How observant. You've noticed a great many things. But I don't like having humans and the human government get involved in my affairs. You'll have to die now, just like that man."

"That will be difficult."

"/I/ don't think so." At this, the man rushed at Arikado, grabbing up some sort of stick and swinging it in a wide arc. Arikado sidestepped, grabbed the man's hand and his neck, and held him still.

"You were wrong. An introduction, now. Don't bother with trying to hit me again, I'm stronger than I look." Arikado emphizied this with a hard squeeze on the non-humans wrist, which caused him to wince slightly.

"Satoris. A full blooded member of the Zoix, who once ruled this land in perfection. When I have the map, I will be able to call the warriors who sleep in the earth to do my bidding. All will be swept aside, and we will have a new land!" Satoris' tone had started out resentful but by the end had changed into something like exultation. All cultists are the same, Arikado thought cynically. Everybody wants to rule the world, and no one has any good lines. "And you? You're not one of the regular government agents."

"No." Arikado debated leaving it at that, but he had been raised to be polite. "Arikado. Genya Arikado. Agent."

"That wasn't a full answer/agent/."

"Neither was yours."

"Why did you come here?"

"Orders. Why I haven't killed you all yet is curiosity."

"Are your little organization's powers any match for the Ziox?" The contempt was obvious is Satoris' face and voice.

"The question is if mine are." Still holding on to Satoris' wrist, Arikado dropped his other hand to his coat pocket and pulled out a cigarette from the package there. Maybe it wasn't his best habit, but he justified it by the fact it couldn't hurt him and it made for something to do during the long hours. Satoris watched quietly, though with an expression of vague annoyance, as Arikado idly placed the cigarette in his mouth. Now, the agent thought, let's see if he's ever seen real magic before, as he took his hand away and lit up with a small flame hovering unsupported in the air. Useful trick, that. Also useful to be able to talk and smoke at the same time.

Satoris started, then looked considering. "Interesting. You as well have powers. Perhaps you might be worth considering for a deal. How is your organization treating you?"

Not that well, but... "I cannot leave them." Figuring Satoris wouldn't bother to try and attack now, Arikado let go of the other man's wrist. "I'll take a better explanation of what the Ziox are and what you're trying to do."

"...And in return, you will help me?"

"I cannot betray my loyalties." Or at least not for you. "But I may be able to give you information in return. True magic, the ways of the underworld..." It's not like you're going to be able to do anything important with all that I'm going to give you anyway.

"Information for information. Hm." Satoris tilted his head and smiled at Arikado with an amused but still vicious smile. "It sounds good." He stepped forward and brought his hand up; it took a bit of willpower for Arikado not to flinch a little. This was a little too close. "I'd like to know what you are, really..." The hand slipped a bit of hair behind Arikado's ear, lightly moving over the currently invisible point at the tip. "But I think I have an idea."

"Really. Does it involve why you are trying to seduce me?" Arikado brushed Satoris' hand away from him, but otherwise held still.

"You are not the only one with a sense of curiosity. Well, why not?"

Arikado paused, considering. True, he wasn't a good Orthodox boy anymore...he worked for the Catholics, if nothing else. And hadn't he just been wanting a decent reward? The man was willing enough, and his cheap little cult no threat. Not sleeping with the enemy, then... He still partially wanted to resist, but - to hell with it all. They had sent him out here as punishment, he'd get something good out of it anyway and get back at them. Bastards. It was a Dracula-like thing to think, but it was true, and Arikado was right, he knew it. He let the hand that had been holding Satoris' back drop, and tilted his head in that direction, half consideration, half invitation.

"Why not, indeed." Arikado gave Satoris a wolfish smile of his own and reached to brush his fingertips across the side of the Ziox's neck, using the other to drop the cigerette and grind it out with his heel. "My kind is well documented, you might not find out much."

"Documentation...can be wrong." Satoris moved his hand to tangle in Arikado's hair, pulling the agent's head down slightly. Arikado aquiested, and when the kiss, a light brushing, really, had ended, began to work his fingers around Satoris' collar. The non-human gave a low growl of approval that oddly reminded Arikado of the werewolves howling in the darkness at home. It was a rather nice thought to take with him as he pressed Satoris back against the wall. A cold breeze from over the snow blew the curtains in with a gentle flapping.

.-.-.-.-.-.-

"They won! The stinking Ruskies won! I can't believe it!" Someone was shouting out in the hallway, and with the bright light now coming in from the window Arikado was not paticularly inclined to open his eyes and wake up yet. He could feel Satoris move under his out-flung arm and try to get up; he let the Ziox do so as he pulled his arm back to cover his eyes. It couldn't be more than noon or one at least, far too soon to get up. Working as an agent had forced him off his natural sleep schedule many times, but this was getting back at the bastards time and Arikado was determined to push that for all it was worth. He heard Satoris stalk across the room and fling open the door, and tried not to wince at the noise.

"What are you fools babbling about now?" Satoris snarled. Arikado hoped for both their sakes he had at least the sense to put on his coat before going out to confront the cultists.

"The world championships...we just got news...we came in third! Third! The Soviets came in first! I can't believe it!"

"What? But we had...never mind that! Hockey is for humans and the lesser folk! We are above such cares. Besides, the team wasn't any good this year." The last was delivered in a low mutter, and the juxtaposition with Satoris' former words gave Arikado a bit of amusement. Canadians.

The cultists outside has left and the door shut, but it still didn't look like we was going to get all the rest he wanted. Pulling himself up rather awakardly, he summoned a pair of pants, still not feeling like making too much of an effort. He turned to the wall, trying to find some shade where he could open his eyes without too much pain. He heard Satoris curse as the Ziox did something to the drapes, hopefully closing them. That was indeed it, and the light slipped down to a level where, if Arikado looked away from the window and blinked a lot, he could open his eyes. Looking around the room revealed Satoris sorting through the articles of clothing tossed on the floor.

"I believe that shirt is mine. It shouldn't have a label on the collar." Arikado had taken a good look at the short Satoris was holding up, and it didn't look like the one he had gotten off the Ziox anyway. He pushed himself up and picked up the proffered shirt, just starting to slip it on when he heard something behind him, turned...and felt the point of a knife in his back.

"Your lectures on magic were useful, but I'm afraid I cannot have you running back to the government with what you know now. I almost want to say 'Sorry' here, but-"

"You're making a mistake." Mentally Arikado cursed himself for letting his guard down like that, hadn't his father taught him anything, but kept his voice steady and calm.

"Humph. And how is that?"

"It takes a certain amount of strength to push a knife into someone's chest, and there's no real guarantee of slipping between the ribs unless you're either skilled or lucky. And,"

"And you look half-starved. I can see the gaps in your ribs quite well, so I don't think that's going to be a problem. Try again." The knife dug deeper into one of the mentioned gaps to emphize Satoris' words.

"Very well. And I could probably beat you hand-to-hand even behind my back. There's no question of me being able to do it with magic." Arikado twisted, trying to slip past the strike that drove the knife into his back even as he did so. He hissed in pain and brought his arm around to shove Satoris back while taking a few akaward half-steps backward.

"And lastly, the heart is on the left." Grasping around his back just jostled the knife, and he bit back a pained noise. Satoris had regained his balance and stood against the bed, watching him sullenly. "It's also a bit higher, and a little more inward." Repeated prodding finally let Arikado get a hold of the handle, and he managed to bring it out covered in his own thick, dark blood.

"I could call my fellows to kill you easily enough." Satoris' slightly uncertain tone belied his arrogant words, as if he wasn't at all sure all his minions could take on the half-man in front of him.

"You could lose them all easily enough as well. Don't think I'd have any regrets about burning this entire place to the ground." And Arikado started gathering the power to do just that, if the damn fool cultist wouldn't back down in the face of obviously mismatched odds. He had known people who wouldn't, a few - two, really - /very/ well.

"I cannot allow you to report what you know to your masters."

"I won't, then." Arikado relaxed, and brought the knife down from it's threatening position. "I don't care what you people get up to here unless you're doing something much more damaging than what you are. Raising my father, for instance. Until then, it's the Canadian government's worry."

"You...you don't CARE?" Satoris' tones of shocked disbelief mixed with indignation made it sound like he was even angrier by this admission than the idea that Arikado would bring the law down on his head. "You do not CARE that we will crush you all under us and will rise again to rule as we were meant to? You don't care you could see your precious civilization ripped apart and replaced?" He flung his head back and tried to glare viciously at Arikado. "You'll see. When we meet again, you'll care much more."

'...If I really thought that,' Arikado thought, 'then I would've killed you by now.'. Out loud, he said "We shall see if that is true when it happens. For now, you have my word I will not betray you to the government." Good thing I don't work for the government. "I'll go now."

This time, Satoris let him go. After they both finished putting on the rest of their clothes.

In the hallway outside, Arikado considered the best way of getting out. Satoris had stayed behind, still angry about being tossed off and forced to let the agent go, and Arikado doubted he would've provided a cover story anyway. So...he could either sneak back out again and walk back to the nearest city, or he could try and make a gate. Walking through knee-deep snow in the blinding daylight wasn't too appealing, but neither was spending all the energy to create a temporary gate, especially as he couldn't remember the nearest permanent one to connect it too, so it would be even more unstable than usual. On the other hand, the nearest town was a good hundred, hundred fifty kilometers away, and hitchhiking was only for emergencies. He /had/ to have made a gate in Edmonton, at least, and that would be close enough. Maybe. The fact that he was still holding a completely not suspicious bloodied knife and his hands were covered in blood as well helped his decision.

The hallway had a few other doors along it, Arikado picked one at random. Locked. Another. This one was open, and a peek inside revealed no one. He slid inside into what looked like a storage area, with boxes everywhere. The pain in his back had faded slightly by then, not as much as it should have, but enough to let him climb over a few large boxes without too much trouble. He'd have to feed soon, the attempt last night had ended in failure when he had learned that Ziox blood was quite possibly the most foul-tasting stuff he had ever tried to drink. The taste was still lingering, all these hours later. Arikado found a suitable clear space on one wall and brought the knife down, down, and across...the shape of a door. Then, carefully, he began to work through the spell, drawing the patterns around the door with the knife and his hands when the blood ran out, and murmuring the words under his breath. No need to be too obvious about this.

Fairly soon one side of a transporter was made. The effort had taken quite a bit out of Arikado, and he hoped Satoris wouldn't change his mind and decide he was too dangerous to allow to leave. It would be even more trouble to beat all the cultists now that most of his magic was exhausted, and he had to use the rest to find a permanent side to bind the portal to. The magic he had been working on ever since he has seen it back in his father's castle in the 18th century still wasn't quite perfect, though he had made some improvements, like extending the distance the transporters could cover and being able to rewrite the destinations on the fly, which was the closest he had even been able to get to actually being able to choose the destination. Of course, that made nearly all of them massively unstable and dangerous to use, which is why no one but he was willing to use them at all. He only kept using them because they were ever so much more convenient. And he still couldn't stand to use cars, nasty things that went far too fast and nowhere to go to ignore the speed like you could on a train. So he had just set up as many portals as he could in as many places when he had the time and power to spare and got along all right. And yes, it did look like there was one in Edmonton. Wonderful. After that it was simple to connect the two and the eye-searing moire of light that marked an unconnected portal was replaced with the white and rainbow of a functional transporter.

Just as he was about to step through, he heard the door crash open and someone come stumbling through, the scent of desperation and fear clinging close. The agent spun to face the noise, ignoring the jerk of pain that came with twisting his back, and saw a large man come scrambling over the piles of boxes that had kept Arikado hidden from view of the door. The two men stared at each other for a moment, trying to see if the other would make the first move. The newcomer spoke first. "Are you...with them?"

"No."

The other breathed a sigh of relief and dropped to the floor next to the agent. "Thank Heaven. They're all after me now, all of them. I slipped up, you know, I'm not supposed to be here, I'm only a half-breed and now Satoris is going to kill me if I don't get out but there's nowhere to go, I don't know how they figured it out, but you've got to help me. You have to." The words came out in a panicked rush, and it looked like the man really was looking to Arikado for salvation. "I'm Rowsdower. Zap Rowsdower, and please, you have to help me get out of here."

For his part, Arikado was still confused as to what kind of parents would name their child "Zap" of all names, but he understood what the man was saying well enough. "But most everyone in here is at least part human. Perhaps not Satoris himself, though."

"That's not the point! And besides, don't you need to get out of here too? Just take me with you." In his state Arikado did not want to be dealing with a belligerent Canadian with a mullet and a strong stench to beer, and he was tempted to just leave...Zap, here to deal with things as he would. On the other hand, Satoris had just stabbed him the back, and he wasn't feeling very kindly disposed to the Ziox either. And really, it was wrong to abandon people to die, wasn't it? Something like that. Hah. Intellectual morality, all he had left.

"All right. Just follow me through here." With that, Arikado stepped through the portal, and into a small apartment in downtown Edmonton. It was filthy, but he wasn't planing on staying long anyway.

At least the trip through the transporter seemed to have shut the Canadian up. Rowsdower just looked around, confused and a little sick from the passage through the magical tesseract. Arikado pointed "The door. You're on your own now.".

"I...thanks. I won't forget." Rowsdower, with one last cautious look at Arikado, nearly blazed through the door, barely bothering to open it first. Arikado watched him leave, then sat down on a not so dirty chair, pulled off his shoe, and dialed the number the girl had given him earlier.

"Are you still there?"

"Sir! Yes, yes, I am. Did everything go well?"

"...As well as could be expected." Maybe better, maybe worse. "I'm coming over there, if you'll give me the address. Be sure to have a drink waiting, I could use one."

The girl named a place in Paris, one of the lesser-used churches and promised a bottleful of good wine before hanging up. Arikado stood up, stretched, took a bit of Mana that had been on the side table to give him enough power to rewrite the portal again, and prepared to leave.

.-.-.-.-.-

Seven years later...

From his position in a tree a small distance away, Arikado could see the whole battle play out beneath him. The boy had made good use of the rifle he had left there, though he had no idea were the grappling hook had come from. Some other mysterious benefactor? Either way, with Satoris dead the two humans had moved off, and Arikado moved in. He idly glanced at the burned wreck of a body that had once been the leader of the Ziox cult as he lit another cigarette and settled back to watch the fabled lost city rise like a bad special effect, considering the basic neglect in education that had failed to teach Satoris how to put oneself out once you were aflame. Sad, really. But not regretful.


End file.
